CEREBRATION
an excerpt

Descending from a total of twenty-two thousand feet. He was roped to two others. A couple of Doctors on a climbing holiday. He secretly had hallucinated at the summit during their brief lunch. A warning prelude to impending high altitude sickness.

He was out of it and not consulted in the descent discussion between the five of them. It was agreed that two ropes with three climbers on each would descend the dangerous face, now more perilous as the noon sun soon melted hard surface ice into slippery unstable slush. "It would be more fun than simply retreating back on the known hard but firm rock climbing way we had ascended," they all agreed.

Front pointing he down climbed while the other two anchor with their ice axes driven deeply through slush into hard ice, holding tightly to the shafts under their chests. Then it's his turn to anchor while one of them down climbs. Face into ice with his axe under the chest, his crampons sharp claws biting firmly into the face. He is so bloody tired. Heavy eyelids droop closed.

¡Psssssst alerta idiota!

You're on top of the world at twenty-two thousand feet. Fifty feet below you is a member of your three man rope team. The rule is; as one climbs the other two are anchored. He is down climbing front pointing, creeping down six thousand feet of sheer shining slippery slushy ice. He's reached the limit of the rope. You see him anchor himself, he waves OK. Your turn now. You check your other partner near you and just before you start your decent you look at the other rope of three below and off to the side. You are keeping pace.
You pull your ice axe from the cold grip of hard ice and carefully kick one foot at a time into the ice and step down with each firm kick, your axe biting into the face beside your face. Looking down you see that your team mate is securely anchored. Beside you, your pal is solidly set too. Reassured, you start your descent!

Looking like a connect the dots animated drawing, the two rope, six man climbing team descends from the summit of this relatively easy Andean mountain peak. Twenty-two thousand feet, in perfect weather, not a cloud in the sky the visibility is forever and other high peaks tower randomly across the high altitude mountainscape. The sunlight shines white even through the hooded blackness of glacier google. Every feature of the surroundings and the mountains themselves are sharp crisply clear as a Duruer etching. The second rope is down-climbing alongside the first. Descending the ice face in unison. He is the Ecuadorian guide on the second rope and is concerned about the man who is supposedly on anchor about ten meters to his left. He notices that the leader of the first rope team has come off his anchor point and is starting the descent, confident in the security his two partners are providing.
The experienced Ecuadorian climber looks very closely over at climber from the other rope team on his left. He is shocked, this man is sound asleep. Asleep in the self arrest position with two other climbers trusting that this guy will sustain them, hold them in the case of a slip, or a fall. But he is sound asleep.

"Dios mio," he prayed and made the sign of the Cross with his free hand. Then carefully directing his voice he whispered repeatedly;
¡Psssssst alerta idiota!

Front pointing I down climb while the other two anchor with their ice axes driven deeply through slush into hard ice, holding tightly to the shafts under their chests. Then it's my turn to anchor while one of them down climbs. Face into ice with my axe under my chest, my crampons sharp claws biting firmly into the face. My eyelids are so damed heavy, I am so tired. I close my eyes into blackness.

¡Psssssst alerta idiota!
¡Alerta idiota! ¡Alerta idiota! ¡Alerta

You pull your ice axe from the cold grip of hard ice and carefully kick one booted crampon at a time into the hard ice and step down with each firm kick. Your ice axe biting into the face beside your face. Balancing every so many down steps, to knock the slush out of the steel of your claws. Looking down you see that your team mate appears securely anchored. Beside you your climbing partner Bert appears solidly set too. Reassured, you are gingerly but powerfully descending!

He is an experienced Ecuadorian climber and he looked very closely over at the older climber from the other rope team on his left. He thought there was something odd about this man. Stunned he realized that this persona was sound asleep. Asleep with two other climbers trusting that their amigo will sustain them, hold them in the case of a slip, or fall. He is asleep and probably dreaming. "Dios mio," he gasped and made the sign of the Cross with his free gauntlet hand.

Very carefully directing his voice so that the other climbers would not hear, he whispered repeatedly in Spanglish;

¡Psssssst alerta idiota! ¡Alerta idiota! ¡Alerta idiota! ¡Alerta